1 Full Year on Substack

The growth, the doubt, and the lesson I’ll carry into Year Two.

I’m writing this article one month early on February 28th, 2026. Riding shotgun next to my fiancée on the drive from Michigan to visit her family in Ohio. A year ago, this version of me didn’t exist.

Truly.

But we overestimate what we can do in a day, and we underestimate what we can do in a year.

And here I am, 365 days later, writing this reflection to you — hoping to provide some value, some inspiration, and some insight into what I’ve been building here at Present & Progressing.

Why I Started Writing

To answer that honestly, I have to go back further than Substack.

My first real experience with reflection and writing began in July of 2023.

That month changed everything.

My fiancée and I had just graduated college. We moved into a small studio apartment. I had my first full-time job lined up. We had just enough money to cover our first month of rent. Our combined net worth was roughly negative $70,000.

I vividly remember laying on the floor of that studio apartment, staring at the ceiling, and calling my mom.

“We’re bored. What are we supposed to do next?”

That memory is burned into my brain.

Up until then, life had always had structure: semesters, seasons, races, milestones. Suddenly there was no syllabus. No roadmap. Just adulthood.

I was 23 and trying to navigate life without clear instructions.

That same month, I bought my first journal.

The early entries were rough. Writing for ten minutes felt uncomfortable. Forced. I didn’t know what was worth putting down. Even though no one else would read it, it felt exposing.

But I stuck with it.

Writing slowly became a grounding place. A way to decompress. A way to untangle thoughts that felt noisy during the day. A way to track patterns in how I reacted to stress, ambition, insecurity, and uncertainty.

It became a mirror.

At the same time, I started reading constantly — personal finance, psychology, discipline, purpose, meaning. I was building my own small interpretation of the world and finding mentors through pages. Their frameworks became lenses I could test in my own life.

You can see all the books I read in the last 3 years here:

Turning Lived Experience into a Year-Long System

For about two and a half years, writing stayed private.

Just me and a notebook.

I didn’t decide to start writing online until the end of March 2025.

At the time, I was living alone in Germany on a six-month work assignment. After work, I had long evenings. If I wasn’t running, biking, walking through the park, or traveling, I had time to think.

A few months before that, I was on a call with a mentor and said something that had been sitting with me:

“I feel like there’s a gap in my personality.”

The year prior, I had clearly defined what I called my core pillars in life — the categories that mattered most. And the one I was struggling with most was mentorship and teaching.

More on my pillars here:

If You Don’t Design Your Life, Someone Else Will

Before graduating, I had been a captain of my college rowing team for four years.

Hard workouts.
Shared struggle.
Constant interaction.
Encouraging teammates.
Helping others push through sessions they didn’t think they could finish.

Leadership and mentorship were built into my day.

When I started working full-time, that structure disappeared.

And I didn’t realize how much I would miss it.

At first, I expected my job to fulfill everything — purpose, community, growth, identity. I assumed one role would check every box.

It didn’t.

And once I let go of that expectation, I had to admit something uncomfortable:

It wasn’t my job’s responsibility to fulfill every pillar of my life.

That gap I felt wasn’t failure. It was simply unaddressed.

So, there I was — in a small, rented apartment in Germany — evenings stretching out in front of me, feeling that missing piece.

And I thought:

Why not try writing in public?

Not because I had a grand vision.
Not because I thought it would become something significant.

But because I needed an outlet.

I genuinely had no intentions beyond starting and seeing what happened.

So, in that small apartment in Germany, I wrote my first article.

Embarrassing, but here it is:

The Fastest Way to Get Ahead Is to Slow Down

And I hit publish.

But that small decision quietly changed the direction of my year.

The Reality of Year One

There wasn’t a moment where everything exploded. No viral post. No overnight breakthrough. No sudden spike that changed everything.

This is my first experience with sharing my thoughts on the internet. I have no other social media presence.

What there was instead was steady work.

By the time this article publishes, it will be my 65th piece. I have published an article every single week since I started — not just when I felt inspired, not just when it was convenient, but every week.

In total, that’s roughly 72,000 public words on Substack. And that’s just what made it online. Behind the scenes, since July of 2023, I’ve journaled over 200,000 words privately — about ten minutes a day. No audience. No algorithm. Just reps.

That’s over a quarter of a million words written in under three years.

At the time of writing this, I have 1,339 followers and 596 subscribers, and I’m hoping to cross 30,000 total views by the time this piece goes live.

I haven’t monetized anything. There’s no paywall, no subscription funnel, no paid product push. A few people have pledged support, which I deeply appreciate, but I’ve intentionally chosen not to focus on revenue at this stage.

The growth has been real, but it has been slow.

Some months were flat. Some articles I was confident in barely moved. Others that I nearly didn’t publish resonated more than I expected. There were countless periods where I doubted myself and quietly questioned what the point was.

But I kept going.

I still remember the notification when I got my very first subscriber. It was such a small thing, just an E-Mail, but it meant someone cared enough to opt in. I remember texting one of my close friends when I hit 100 subscribers. It felt disproportionally exciting.

Then came the first restacks. The first reshared posts. The first time someone commented, “This is the best article I’ve read on Substack.” Moments like that shift something internally — not because of ego, but because they confirm that your words landed somewhere outside of you.

Behind the scenes, I’ve put roughly 10–15 hours per week into Substack while working a full-time job and managing everything else in my life. One of the most helpful systems I developed was batching content. If I had an open weekend, I would go to a coffee shop for six to eight hours and write multiple pieces at once, scheduling them in advance so I could stay ahead. That protected consistency.

And consistency became the real engine.

I have posted at least one Note every single day for the entire year. Even on days when engagement was low. Even on days when I felt unsure. Even on days when I questioned whether anyone was paying attention.

Year One did not feel dramatic. It felt disciplined. It felt repetitive. It felt like showing up when I didn’t feel like it.

And slowly, almost invisibly, something compounded.

Not just the audience. But me.

The 3 Real Benefits of Writing

1. Writing Clarified How I Think

Writing forced me to turn loose thoughts into structured ideas. If I couldn’t explain something clearly, I didn’t understand it well enough. Over time, publishing weekly sharpened how I process the world and accelerated my growth.

2. Writing Strengthened My Identity

When I felt a gap in my personality after college, writing helped fill it. It became an outlet for mentorship, reflection, and articulation. At some point this year, it stopped feeling like an experiment and started feeling like part of who I am.

3. Writing Built Leverage

I didn’t start writing to build a platform, but consistency creates opportunity. Collaborations, live sessions, and podcast conversations came not from a viral moment, but from showing up every week. Writing in public created proof — both for others and for myself.

The One Defining Lesson

If I had to summarize Year One briefly, it would be this:

Just start. For too long, I told myself I didn’t have anything worth sharing. I wasn’t “a writer.” I needed more clarity before putting my thoughts online.

But clarity doesn’t come before the work. It comes from the work.

You start. You write poorly. You improve. You repeat. Over time, the repetitions compound and your identity shifts.

At some point, without even noticing it, you stop trying to become something and realize you already are.

You just needed to begin.

Where Year Two Is Headed

I want to continue writing consistently and reach 1,000 subscribers by the end of 2026. I want to become more integrated with live conversations, podcasts, and speaking opportunities. Writing will remain the anchor, but I’d like to thoughtfully build around it.

If time allows, I also want to continue developing the Life Point Allocation Model — refining it, pressure-testing it, and potentially turning it into a short book with a 30-day tracker in the back. Something practical. Something usable. Something that helps people think differently about how they allocate their energy and attention.

More than anything, I want to keep connecting with creators here and growing this audience intentionally.

No rush. No shortcuts. Just continued reps.

Thank You

To everyone who has read an article, restacked a post, sent a message, or quietly subscribed, thank you.

To the friends who encouraged me early, the creators who collaborated with me, and the people who took my words seriously before I fully did, I’m grateful.

And to the 23-year-old version of me lying on the studio apartment floor wondering what was next,

I’m glad you bought that journal.

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A special shoutout to everyone who has supported me. It means more than words can describe:

Nathalie Cohen, Mick, Sara Benna, Anna ❀, Matt From Mindset Matt, Nat Sang, Lyrics and Fire, delicatehibiscus, Kunal, Kirsi-Maria, Anthony, Francisco, Hidden Resilience, João Mesquita, Hannah Torkelson, Heidi Blake, Rob Riker, Aisha, Amy Stanborough, Jackie Ko, Andrew Calvert, Agata Bendik, Chris & Chris, Charles P D'Amico, Jasmine Caroline 🧡, Alexandra Pasareanu, keng, Josh Orwick, Aga Graupen, Rachelle, Felix, Austin, Chris Parry, Shirley | Identity Reframes, Patrick D. Nugent, Claire, The Girl Who Got Away, Eamon O'Malley, Canary Vale, Veronica Quinn, Freeta, Aaron Johnson, Genevieve Brock, Ethan Powell, Leanna | Homebody, Lieutenant Dizy, that Brooklyn girl♡, The Pleasure Pilgrimage, Florian Jumel, Stephen Hood, Zoli | From Zero to Stack, Jacob Templer, William Leroux, cinnamon, Shanna Sukhnanan, Veil & Mirror, Andrew Scott, Jack W., Chris Antonelli, The Creative Life. Claire Guentz, Lachlan Colledge, The Therapist Who Came Undone, Cosmo P DeStefano, Ingrid Dy, Dan Palmer, The AI Rabbit Hole, Charisse Joy Melegrito, Hurol Inan, Mark Rogers, Dido Torchi